


Azalea Potter and the Ring of Sauron

by DragonKeeper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: (I like making things look like there are no flaws), (more tags to come), (sorry not sorry), Fem!Harry, Strong!Harry, Warlock!Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-07-24 10:03:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16172855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonKeeper/pseuds/DragonKeeper
Summary: Azalea Potter struggles in a post-war world, when she's called to take up arms again... in a different world. But it's okay. She knows this world, and she knows people who would help her. Besides, she's tired of being the scapegoat of the people. Going somewhere she's not famous? That's worth all the gold in Gringotts.To the pleas of the Valar and Mother Magik, Azalea and the remnants of her little army join forces against Sauron and Sarumon, with a hope to rebuild when this is all over. Azalea just wants to find those she loves. Maybe settle down. Maybe. Maybe find love, if she's lucky.





	1. 01. Preparation... is Not Stress Free

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I'm back! I cannot access the files of the other story right now, due to my current living situation, but I decided to post this one that I've been working on.
> 
> As a general Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I likely do not own it. I make no money off of this particular hobby of mine.
> 
> So please, sit back and enjoy another of my fem!Harry in Middle Earth stories, where she gets attached to an altogether too attractive Ranger, dotes on her favorite Hobbits, butts heads with a stubborn man (at least she got practice, being best friends with Ron Weasley), enjoys nature with their resident Elf, trades battle stories with their stout dwarf, and trades tricks with the traveling Wizard. And that's only part of it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azalea remembers her past and is faced with a major decision. But she has to consider thirty-nine others, and they help her prepare.

> _A triage of spiraling red lights shot past her head, ruffling her unruly black hair. Azalea Potter spun around, a curse glowing at the tip of her wand, only to watch in shock as the spells hit three of the most important wizards in her life, pushing them back into and beyond the Veil of Death. Sirius Black was clinging to his wand, hand outstretched towards her. Remus Lupin was doubled over, gasping for breath, staring at her sadly through his tears. Severus Snape just looked resigned as he grabbed as he grabbed onto the two men and gazed at her pleadingly._
> 
> _"Look after them." It was simple, and spoken like an order, and with that, there were gone. Her godfather, her uncle, and her father figure (step-uncle, really, but still) were just gone. No bodies for her to take home and bury, nothing. With a shriek of pure rage and pain, causing dread to fill those who heard it, Azalea Jaime Potter turned back to the fray, casting various Severing Charms, uncaring of where on her targets they hit._

With a jolt, Azalea sat up in her desk chair, groaning softly and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Glancing at the large grandfather clock bathed in the light of the dying fire and full moon, she noted it was nearing three in the morning, only to bit back another groan. _I hate the so-called Witching Hour,_ she thought bitterly, heart heavy as she gazed at an old photograph on her desk, depicting Severus Snape and his wife, her Aunt Petunia, Dudley, herself, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin on her fifteenth birthday. It had been a blistering hot summer, and all of them were sporting both a tan and a sunburn. In front of her was a letter from her best friend, Hermione Granger, who had been doing research since the skirmish that had cost her the three wizards, fifteen years ago. A particular paragraph kept jumping out at her.

> _The Veil of Death is not, much as the name suggests, instant death. It’s a portal to what I suspect, in my collaboration of various stories, is another world. I cannot tell if it a single world or if it is many worlds, as accounts vary. One person says that the land is so black, the air so poisonous, that it is like the very personification of the darkest magical arts. Another says that the trees are made of the brightest silver and the leaves are made of the purest gold. Yet another one claims of seeing the lushest hills and greenest greens with an abundance of crops and forests. The final account I assessed before writing this letter speculates that, upon multiple trips, these are all different lands within one world, having claimed to track travelers in these lands. I do not know for certain, as this author is also reputed to have multiple personalities, while others claim she is schizophrenic. However, I will trust her judgement to a point as she is the only one to have made multiple trips. And every account concurs that, barring injuries, illnesses, and whatnot, the portal itself will not kill you. But unless you have half your body physically anchored on this side of the Veil, one cannot return. There is, barring events that happened after their arrival on the other side, a very good chance that Severus, Sirius, and Remus are still alive._

Running her fingers across the descriptions of the lands, something tugged on her memory – stories told by an elderly Hobbit. But rather than dwell on that and what it could mean, Azalea focused on what her Aunt’s reaction would likely be. She could still remember the day Severus proposed. Petunia had refused until she knew her son and niece would be loved as well. It had been surprising to see that Severus had gotten “proposal gifts” for them as well, claiming he wasn’t asking just one person to be allowed into the family, but rather he was asking all three of them allow him into the family. She and Dudley had been given matching lockets, sturdy and clunky looking things with a thick chain, decorated with an oak leaf, a five-point gradient pint azalea bloom, and a dark purple petunia bloom, all in tiny precious gems. The two of them had cherished the lockets, never taking them off, as they were enchanted to repel water, dirt, and mud.

When Azalea had broken the news, Petunia had nearly shut down, barely surviving to take care of herself. She had slowly returned in the years since, but was still a shadow of her former self. The news that her husband may still be alive, though out of reach, should cheer her a little, if not motivate her to follow. And Azalea would let her Aunt walk through the Veil if it meant her happiness.

A prickling of magic dancing across her shoulders and down her spine – like a cold wind slipping under a cloak - caused her to sit up in alarm and look out the open window to the balcony beyond. Stars danced merrily where they had on place to be, before coalescing into one ethereal being. A woman, with near ebony black skin, rich black hair sparking with a fine diamond studded covering, and crystal blue eyes now stood on her balcony, looking both as if she belonged, and sorely out of place. Azalea’s eyes took in the simple gown that glowed as if made from pure starlight, before widening as a breeze stirred the still air, lifting her riotous curls before they settled once more to trail lovingly across her cheekbones and arms, stark against her pale skin.

"Hello, Child of Magik. I am Varda, Queen of the Valar. I, along with my husband and our siblings, have been watching you since Mother Magik first brought you to Arda, to the arms of the Baggins family. Frodo has not forgotten you, nor have you, I suspect, forgotten him." She smiled gently, pale brown lips turning upwards as Azalea’s gaze drifted to her desk, landing on an old, still portrait of a curly haired, leaf eared youth, with cerulean blue and a bright smile. Below that was a foreign inscription that she could tell you with certainty meant _Family is by Choice_. "Yes, Yavanna is quite fond of him. We all are, honestly. Frodo, and his uncle. He’s a strong lad, but he needs you. But war is brewing, his strength will be tested, and I know we have no right to ask you this, but would you be willing to come to Arda? Permanently? Take a moment, and consider this. Are you truthfully content here?” Azalea wanted to blurt out that yes, actually, she was perfectly content, but as she gazed a Frodo’s portrait, she couldn’t. She hadn’t returned after the skirmish in the Department of Mysteries, having not wanted to taint her favorite Hobbits with her burgeoning war ways, but it sounded like they were about to learn these ways whether she went or not.

“Is my presence required, or will it just be beneficial?” She could feel Varda’s gaze on her bowed head, and refused to look up.

“It would be beneficial. Extremely beneficial. Frodo will be in need of your brand of strength and belief. However, I must warn you. When we asked Mother Magik for permission to as you this, she told us it would be your last trip. You would be unable to return.” Emerald eyes snapped up to meet crystal clear, only to glaze over as a twenty-five-year-old memory made itself known.

> _"One day, Childe, the time will come for you to make a decision. Do you want to stay in a world that would see you dead, young, or will you leave, taking your nearest and dearest, to live in a world where you can prosper and live a long life? It is not a decision that can be made now, as you may find enough to keep you here, despite knowing your fate."_

At five, when she had been told this, she had not understood what the woman meant, with her old wisdom and youthful face and sad eyes. Nor had it made any sense at the end of the war when she was twenty-five going on fifty, and gazing at those who survived, starving and exhausted, perhaps now, five years later, things were a little clearer.

The war against Voldemort had taken a lot out of everyone. Her little Army was nearly decimated, looking rather emaciated and exhausted. The regular civilians were still trying to find their missing loved ones, with little hope. The remains of the Death Eaters were trying to gain their freedom, and the Ministry was being rebuilt from the ground up. Five years later, they needed a scapegoat for everything. Azalea had done all she could to raise funds for war relief, donating her time and gold to the rebuilding efforts, though she did her best to stay out of politics. But everyone was insisting she marry, and, before her medical file was leaked, insisted she have an heir. Now, they claimed she was a warmonger, that she could have ended the war much sooner. Her Army was hunted, in hiding with the exceptions of herself, the Weasley Family, and the Ribald Clan, keeping in contact via enchanted journals, courtesy of the Weasley Twins. Knowing she only had thirty-nine left in her Army, in her nearest and dearest, she gazed determinedly at Varda, spine straight. Varda nodded from where she now sat across from her.

“We, the Valar, only have one request. You and yours build a community. A magical community. An open one. But only after everything has settled. Mother Magik has confessed that she plans to leave this world, abandon those left here, before they kill her. You and yours respect her, and we want you to teach our people the same, so that we may welcome her fully.” Azalea smiled sadly.

“We can do that.” A hand grazed her cheek softly, and she closed her eyes, leaning into it.

“Thank you. Now,” Varda stood gracefully, backing away towards the balcony, “I will return in seven nights to take you directly to Frodo Baggins. Before I leave, let me say: your friend there has some good resources at her fingertips. All accounts she relayed to you are correct, and they all lead to Arda. Your uncles and godfather are alive, though tensions are, as I mentioned, rising, everywhere. Oh, and please find a way to destroy the Veil. It has been in tact for far too long. I shall see you in a week, Daughter of James and Lily.” Varda left much the same way as she had arrived, in a swirl of foreign stars. Before she could gather herself, a soothing trill sounded from behind, and she relaxed, leaning back and closing her eyes.

 _< Ease yourself, chicklet. Things will work out as they should, and seem better in the morning light. Mother’s gift will follow you and those who go with you. Trust in that.>_ Her chair swiveled around as she turned to face the two phoenixes perched behind her desk. One was Fawkes, who had trilled softly in his sleep, sensing her mild distress at only having a week to prepare. The other was her beloved Hedwig, once a snowy owl, returned to her as an Ice Phoenix. After the year on the run, when she had managed a major victory over Voldemort, though unable to finish him, Azalea studied to become a Warlock, to be able to finish the job. The final stage to becoming a full Warlock was for a phoenix to accept a bond. Both phoenixes had appeared that day, and she enjoyed not only the healing ability of a Fire Phoenix and the fighting boost of an Ice Phoenix, but the companionship and conversation the two brought with them.

Azalea acknowledged her longtime friend’s words with a nod, but instead of taking the hint to return to sleep, she pulled several clean sheets of parchment her way and started to write. First order of business was to decide who she could not live without, those who would understand and support her even if there were unwilling to follow this time, and those she would just leave letters for.

> _Petunia, Dudley, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Neville, Luna_
> 
> _Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ginny, Fleur, Tonks, Gerontius, Adamanta, Isengrim, Hildigard, Isumbras, Hildigrim, Isembold, Hildifons, Isembard, Hildibrand, Belladonna, Donnamira, Mirabella, Isengar_
> 
> _Poppy, Minerva, Pomona, Filius, Cedric, Viktor, Gabby, Seamus_

Thirty-nine people left, and only seven that she knew would follow without a single trace of doubt. Oh, she knew all of them were loyal to her and to each other, but she did not feel she had the tight to ask them to upset their lives and their businesses for her. Not with another war in the future. Shaking her head, she also drafted a series of letters to be sent to Skeeter “after her death.” She could see it now, _The Tragic Story and Sordid Details of the Girl-Who-Lived_ , or something as corny. But it was a chance to sow discord, and she owed the woman that much. On the back of the lists, she started another draft, to be sent out to those she wouldn’t talk to personally.

> _It started twenty-five years ago. I was visited by someone who called themselves_ Mother Magik _and taken to visit a new world. I was taught how to travel on my own, with the stipulation that I could only stay a total of a month in that world per year. I made friends, and learned new things. Now, this world faces war, and my friend, Frodo, is at the center of it. I am going to go help him, by the request of the Gods and Goddess of that world, as well as Mother Magik herself. But I will be unable to return. This is my last trip, and I always knew it would arrive. But Mother Magik has said that I may bring people with me (or rather, to a point, have you follow behind me). But this goes beyond a war, which I could never ask you to join. No, Mother Magik wants a new community, a magical community, in this world. Should the war be won in the favor of the Free Races of Middle Earth (I'll tell you more about that later on), this will be our task. Our final task._
> 
> _Magic, in this world, is not feared by those without, though it is misunderstood by the misinformed and ignorant. Our laws here would have no effect on us there. Heedless, of your decision, because I cannot ask you to fight someone else's war, I will be going. If you choose to follow, thank you. If you choose to stay, then my opinion of you will not change._

It was only a draft, and she needed to add more to it, most definitely, but it was a start, and a start was all she needed. She turned to her account ledgers, and Hedwig trilled a laugh as she disappeared in a flurry of snow, only to bring back her account manager, Griphook, to sort out her will.

> _The Last Will and Testament of Azalea Jaime Potter_
> 
> _I, Azalea Jaime Potter, being of sound mind and body, proclaim this to be my last will and testament._
> 
> _First, I would like all of my properties to be renovated into orphanages and schools for those under eleven, as well as secondary schools for those who either cannot go to Hogwarts, or wish not to go. My fortune and accounts, with the exception of the contents of Vault 1313, Vault 1314, Vault 1315, Vault 1316, Vault 1317, and Vault 1318, will go to the upkeep of these properties, and the salaries of the staff. These properties, and the hiring of the staff, will fall under the purview of Griphook of Gringotts._
> 
> _The contents of Vault 1313 go to Hogwarts. The books are all copies that I have found in my combined libraries, and after making sure they were not personal, I hereby donate them to the Hogwarts Library. Please take care of them. The brooms are for Flying class, and there is a standing order from Quality Quidditch Supplies for a new set every five to ten years. Please, use these well._
> 
> _The contents of Vault 1314 go to the Weasley Family, plus married members. You deserve this after all you have done for me since I returned to the Wizarding World. Hermione, there is a full bookshelf with copies of books that both myself and Hogwarts already had. Enjoy, and I'm sorry, everyone, for leaving like this._
> 
> _The contents of Vault 1315 go to the Ribald Family. I found that one of my family's personal vaults contained these building materials, and I thought that, if anyone could get any use out of them, you could, with your wide range of skills. Thank you._
> 
> _The contents of Vault 1316 go to Neville Longbottom. There are clippings from every plant in every greenhouse from every property, all under the proper Stasis Charms, with identification and instructions as given by the caretakers of the greenhouses. Even if you already have them, I thought you could use these._
> 
> _The contents of Vault 1317 go to Luna Lovegood. I hope you find every creature you have ever told me about, and so many more besides. Live life to its fullest, and follow your dreams._
> 
> _The contents of Vault 1318 go to Draco Malfoy. Thank you for growing up, cousin, and thank you for believing in me when I didn't. I'm so sorry for everything I have ever said or done._
> 
> _Second, I return my shares in Weasley Wizarding Wheezes to Fred and George Weasley, split evenly between them. My shares in Belladonna's Apothecary are to be returned to Belladonna Ribald. The remainder of my shares are to be sold off._
> 
> _Third, I would like to officially end the Potter Line. The ladyship dies with me, and I swear, on my honor, there are none left who have enough relation to claim the line._
> 
> _Signed, Azalea Jaime Potter_
> 
> _Date: 7 October 2010_
> 
> _Witnessed: Griphook_
> 
> _Date: 7 October 2010_

With the Will written and witnessed, she no longer had to worry about taking care of that. She just had the letters to finish up, and then had to get everything into Griphook’s custody.

"I will bring this by in a few days with everything else to be handed out or mailed after the reading. I promise, I will not change the will at all." Griphook nodded, before allowing Hedwig to return him to the bank, and Azalea took a moment to stretch out her back and shake her hand, warding off the impending cramp

From there, it was time to start a to do list for the next week.

> _Get a new trunk (living space versus multiple compartments, talk to G. Ribald)_  
>  _Get a new pack and tent (war means travel, Middle Earth means walk or ride)_  
>  _Linked Mailboxes (Gred and Forge?)_  
>  _Talk to House Elves (follow or find new families?)_  
>  _Gather Petunia, Dudley, Weasley Family, Hermione, Draco, Neville, Luna (talk with them first)_  
>  _Talk to Ribald family during trunk issue_  
>  _Find Fleur and Tonks (talk)_  
>  _Send letters to Poppy, Minerva, Pomona, Filius, Cedric, Viktor, Gabby, and Seamus (ASAP)_  
>  _Get the letters for Skeeter (release over time)_  
>  _Brew War Packs  
>  _ _Put together First Aid Kits  
>  _ _Pack_

It was a fairly short list, with plenty of room for additional items, but it was enough to settle her mind enough to start arguing the pros and cons of living spaces versus multiple compartments. She needed versatility, something for a long term staying, like multiple compartments, and a tent for short term staying. But the ability to carry passengers in a living space (not able to be done in a collapsed tent) to pass unnoticed might be useful. But a somewhat quick access to her clothes, books, potions cabinet, writing supplies, weapons, armour, camping gear, and such would be useful. Maybe Gerontius had an answer, but that would have to wait.

The gentle song of the early morning birds pulled her attention to the sunlight streaming in through the window, and she stood once more, twisting and stretching to work out the kinks from sitting down so long. She would start with the trunk, as that had the possibility to take the longest, but first, she needed to change out of her nightgown.

Standing in front of her mirror on the inside of her wardrobe, Azalea’s eyes traced the tattoos marking her as a Warlock - a Wizard with a focus on battle magiks. She was the first Witch to complete the training, to the extreme shock (and dismay) of the other Warlocks. She no longer needed a wand for most things, though she had needed a custom one made for her higher power core once she achieved Warlock status. The core had been a feather each from Hedwig and Fawkes, bound with their willingly given blood, while the wood had been a sturdy Iron Oak that had been particularly stubborn, with a feathery design. As she picked up her brush, her eyes moved from the tattoos - the black warlock marks and the colorful phoenix bonding marks - to the scars accumulated through her life, and in the war. To her, they were a testament of her strength, of what she had been through.

Slowly, she pulled the brush through her waist length hair, before Dutch Braiding it, the thick queue heavy against her back. She then pulled on a pair of black leather trousers, followed by leather boots of the same color that went to mid-calf. A dark green, high collared vest followed, leaving her arms bare as she tightened the ties that held it shut. The back was decorated in gold and silver embroidery, forming two phoenixes. On her belt, she placed a money pouch and a pouch containing extra armour discs. She slid her golden Army Medallion into the holder on her vest, brushing her fingers over it with a sad smile.

Her arms were left bare, except for plain black leather bracers around her wrists, showcasing the black lines of her Warlock tattoos and the bright swirls spreading out from the two phoenixes that were branded onto her sides, one fire, one ice, that were the marks of her bonding with Hedwig and Fawkes. She adored those marks the most, especially since it meant she was never too hot nor too cold; she was always kept comfortable, no matter the weather. The result was intimidating enough to keep the dissenters quiet and the fans as bay.

Once her wand was in a thigh holster and various daggers were stowed around her body, she quickly floo’d to the Leaky Cauldron, not bothering to eat or grab a cloak.

**

"Morning Azalea!" Tom’s bright greeting through the quiet and mostly empty bar brought a tight smile to her face as she mentally added him to the list of letters. Tom’s family had long been loyal to the Potter family, and that had been very helpful during the war. "Would you like a breakfast?" As always, he seemed quite eager to serve something up, and she felt a pang of regret.

"Not right now Tom. I will eat on my way back through, though. I promise." She placed a few Galleons in the tip mug, and smiled at him. "I have a meeting to get to, though."

"Then I’ll not be keeping you. Hurry along now. I’ll see you when you come back through, and I’ll make sure there’s a Treacle Tart and Firewhiskey waiting!"

With a distracted "Thank you!" over her shoulder, Azalea stepped into the back alley and opened the gate to Diagon Alley. Thankful it was still early enough for the street to be rather quiet, she strode quickly towards Ribald’s Trunks, her long legs making it easy to arrive at her destination.

"Good Morning Gerontius. How’s your father today?" Gerontius Ribald, current owner, looked up, his greying curls flying out, from the register and smiled.

"And a wonderful morning to you too, Azalea! Father, well, this appears to be one of his better days, thank you for asking. Now, how may I help you today?" Gerontius swept his dark blue eyes over her outfit, and raised an eyebrow. "And may I say you look wonderfully dangerous today? I don’t think I ever congratulated you on achieving Warlock status. It’s a good look for you."

"Thank you, Gerontius. I was wondering if you could do a custom job, but have it done in a few days. I was thinking several compartments, at least ten, if not a couple more, and all of them magically intense. Expandable wardrobe, potions cabinet with storage space, library, and a filing cabinet to begin with. Now here’s where things will get tricky. I’m planning on traveling. I also want a compartment that is a room for my knitting and sewing, as well as a similar compartment to house my woodworking and metalworking. If they have to be two separate compartments, that’s okay. Then one that can hold all my weapons and armour, though I would prefer it to be a room as well, for the sake of keeping it all safe. Another compartment for camping supplies, and an extra compartment, preferably with an Expansion Charm of some level for miscellaneous items." Gerontius frowned at the parchment he had been taking notes on.

"You said you were traveling? Tell you what, I just mastered a new technique. Listen, I can do all of this, and throw in a living space that has access to all the compartments from within, as well as a kitchen, a room that can mimic any outdoors area you want, a bedroom and bathroom, a living room, and a dining room. I can add extra rooms as well. Up to you. And I can do this all today, most likely, barring any mishaps. The base cost would be one hundred Galleons, but I also have to figure in the extra labor, the various algorithms and runes to get everything done properly, as well as adding all the charms and wards to it. May I ask your help in powering everything, that way it only recognizes you and won’t open unless you give them access?" Azalea smiled at Gerontius.

"That sounds perfect. I think I would want a bedroom and bathroom, a living room/dining room combo, a full kitchen, a potions room, three different craft rooms - go ahead and separate the wood and metal - the room that mimics the outdoors, a library, a potions room, and, if possible, three large greenhouses. I would also like a way to hide and carry it without much trouble, and not just the Self Shrinking method. Maybe something like a cloak pin?" She absently summoned some parchment, pulling a stick of charcoal out to start sketching several possible layouts. Gerontius poked his wand at several of the sketches, moving them around, and Azalea started writing down proposed room sizes.

"Certainly. How about you join me when I create the rooms so that you can tell me how you want them, and we can take care of the materials then? Belladonna is able to run the shop today, so I can work directly with you and not get side tracked."

"Sounds good. Shall I let you get started on the calculations? I need to make a few stops before I can help. My pack from the war is beyond repair, as is the tent."

"Oh, go ahead, go ahead! It will take me a couple of hours to figure out exactly which runes will work best for what you want. Each design requires different configurations, after all! Come back after lunch, and we can finish it all up then. Have a good day, Azalea!" With that, Gerontius was lost in his runic work, and Azalea just chuckled and left the shop, waving merrily at Gerontius' oldest daughter, Belladonna, a Slytherin two years behind her, dodging people as she made her way to Burnett’s Sports and Outdoors. Hearing the chime of the bell over the door, Azalea drew in a breath to steady herself. Last time she had been in here was just after graduation, and things had been really tense then. Cynthia Burnett bustled forward with a tentative smile.

"Lady Potter, I am so glad to see you in a better time. How may we help you today?" Azalea released her breath, relaxing, and gave a genuine smile to the young woman.

"Cynthia, I’m glad that this is a better time for shopping. My pack and tent were destroyed in the final battle, and I’m getting ready to do some traveling, explore the world, learn new things, that sort of stuff, so I was looking to replace them. I was thinking a good hiking pack and tent combo, nice and simple, easy to overlook, but still not too modern. I really like how you’ve been integrating the non-magical technology into the magical tents, particularly for the easy of putting things together, but I really like the solidity of the older tents." Cynthia nodded.

"Of course, Azalea. I completely understand. So, a Hiking combo, you said? I assume you want Undetectable Expansion Charms on them, the pack particularly, as well as Weather Repelling charms, Insect and Animal Repelling Charms, and Feather Light Charms? What kind of wards, if any?"

"Yes, to all of those charms, but only the basic Anti-Theft Charms instead of wards. I’m planning on warding the area around the campsite instead of the tent itself, and other than that, it will always be near me, so a simple Leash Charm will take care of that. I was also wondering about bedrolls and hammocks. If the weather is nice, I wouldn’t mind sleeping under the stars themselves."

"Those actually come with the Backpacking Combination. Backpacking, I don’t know if you know, can actually take several days, while hiking is normally a single day. If you’re traveling like I suspect you will be, I would actually suggest the Backpacking Combination. Would you like leather or canvas?" Azalea looked up from where she was examining the Backpacking Combination, noticing the Mix and Match option.

"Leather pack, canvas tent, leather base for the bedroll, canvas hammock, if possible. All in browns." Cynthia nodded, and lined up the four items. The pack was rather simple, with a main body, two side pockets, and a front pocket, a place on top for the bedroll, a place on bottom for the tent, and a metal frame that would help even out the weight. The hammock would fit neatly into one of the side pockets. Once the charms were in place, Azalea looked around the shop further. "Do you happen to have mess kits, clothesline, clothespins, soaps and the like?"

"Of course, Azalea. Right over here. Now, as a reminder, that tent is not furnished, but I can switch it out for a furnished tent."

"Don’t worry about it, Cynthia. I still have most of the furnishings from the first tent." _Lie, but I will be furnishing it with stuff from the properties, same with the trunk._ She went through and grabbed a cast iron mess kit that doubled as cookware for a single person, a canvas bag of clothespins and thin rope, a collapsible washboard, and several bars of the two types of soap, one for laundry, hair, and body, and the other for dishes. She also grabbed matchbooks and flint-and-steel sets, and a few various items, like waterproofing wax, and hunting knives, along with whetstones and oil cloths. Right as she was about to wrap things up, she grabbed some fine netting, meant for keeping bugs out of a tent or off a hammock. Despite the charms, it would be useful. "Alright, I think that covers it. Thank you, Cynthia." She paid, putting everything within the pack to sort out later, and left the shop, heading to Scrivenshaft’s, to see if she could get a travel writing desk. She was in luck, and walked away with a writing desk with an expanded interior. That would make things easier, since it would fit neatly into her pack, so she wouldn't have to open her trunk except to refill the desk.

A stop down a side alley saw her leathers, retrieved by one of her house elves, repaired and respelled, and she bought some new chainmail to line them. Happy with how her morning had gone, she fairly skipped back to Ribald's Trunks, intent on dragging Gerontius to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch with her.

"Morning there, Belladonna!" Belladonna, despite the war, had not changed much since Azalea had met the first year, later sorted into Slytherin, during the train search for Sirius Black, and had very dark curls, almost as black as her own, with light honey eyes. She had been one of the few Slytherins that she had gotten along with. It still cracked Azalea up to know that the Ribald Clan might as well have been the part of the Took Clan that Bilbo’s mother was part of, though she never said anything to them about that, and dearly hoped she never would have to. If they did follow, however, it was bound to come up at one point. Bilbo had told her many stories from his mother, Belladonna, about his various aunts and uncles. "Is Gerontius in the back?"

"Yes ma'am! Quite excited about the challenge you presented him with, too! Got my brothers working on the base, Iron Oak, while he finalizes the runic structures. Gunna drag him out to lunch?" The two grinned at each other, well aware of the fact that, when caught up in his work, the man would forget all about food. It was a running joke in the family that work and Azalea were Gerontius’ mistresses, since, other than his wife, Adamanta, Azalea was the only person able to get Gerontius to take a break without too much fuss.

"Planned on it, luv. Tom's got a Firewhiskey and Treacle Tart with my name on it, and I plan to collect. I adore that man. Always remembers what I like best, and keeps the paparazzi away. Want me to bring anything back for you?" She leaned on the counter, Belladonna doing the same from the other side, causing the two of them to come nose to nose.

"Nah. Donna and Mira are working the kitchens right now, so I'll be fine. Hey, if you've time, say goodbye to Grand-da, please. We can see that you're leaving, and he won't last long anyway. He has always adored you. So has Ma and Da and all the rest of my siblings.” Azalea’s eyes fell shut as she leaned her forehead against her friends. “It’s quite easy to see that you plan on leaving, and honestly, none of us blame you. I only ask you say goodbye to Grand-da." Azalea sighed quietly, pressing her forehead harder against Belladonna’s, fighting tears.

“I needed to talk to all of you anyway, about this. I leave in just under a week. Perhaps a potluck in two days’ time? Will he hold on that long?” Belladonna nodded, and Azalea opened her eyes. “Good. I promise to spill all then.  Now, I’m regretting my decision to not grab breakfast.” She stood back up and skipped into the back room. “Gerontius! We should fuel up before continuing, and Tom has Treacle Tart and Firewhiskey waiting for me! Hey boys. How’s the wood behaving?”

"Stubborn, Miss Azalea, just like you." Gerontius' oldest, Isengrim, grinned at her from where he was guiding the sanding charm across the lid. "You take Da to lunch, iron out the details even further. When you get back, we should be at the point of being able to etch the runes into the sides and then you can start creating the living space you want." Isumbras and Hildigrim nodded in agreement from where they were assembling the rest of the trunk.

"Ah, Azalea. I have just figured out the rest of the runes. You said something about food?" She laughed and tugged the elder man's arm.

"Yes. Let's let them finish their work, while you and I fuel up for casting a lot of magic later. Come on, old man." With a loud laugh, they made their way to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Back for some food, Azalea? Come on, I have your usual, as well as a booth open for you. What would you like, Gerontius?" Tom bustled out from behind the bar, leading them over to the open booth.

"Steak and Kidney pie, all the fixings, and a Butterbeer, please Tom. Thank you." With another grin, Tom bustled off to grab their drinks.

"So, you said you had it all figured out?"

"I do, actually. I did a small test of it, and discovered I had to use Iron Oak instead of my usual wood, as it wouldn’t hold the magic, but you saw the boys doing the base work. The compartments won't be too difficult, as they're fairly standard, but the living space is always tricky, as it needs to match the owner of the trunk. I will need you with me, at the very least, for the final layout and size. Once everything is set, and the wand work finished, you'll need to set passwords into the wards. After that, it's a matter of choosing what you want to turn the trunk into for travel, and I can set that using a runeset. After that, we will cover the runes, and finish it up." Azalea nodded, already running a final sketch on a spare piece of parchment, making notes of the final room sizes and the pin she wanted it to become.

"Sounds wonderful. Thank you for doing this for me, Gerontius. How much is it going to be?"

"One hundred and fifty. I’ll throw in the leather and wards for free since you’re helping me with the powering of the Charm work. I figure you’ll want some of that Basilisk hide you donated. No one really wants it, unfortunately." She looked up and stared at the man sadly.

"That sounds reasonable, though I am sorry the Basilisk Hide didn’t sell. Is it alright if I do the wards, though? I want to use some pretty specific ones that you aren’t licensed to cast." Gerontius waved off her apology as the food arrived.

"Sure, so long as you don’t get my shop in trouble." The two laughed as Tom grinned at them from the bar, enjoying the laughter. He always thought it a treat to hear those two talk about wards, runes, and algorithms, even if he was left behind. That was why he always set them near the bar, far enough away from the main crowd that they weren’t easily spotted, and close enough that he could keep track of how Azalea was doing. He still remembered the scared girl who appeared, just turned twelve, running from predators, and the nearly sixteen-year-old angry young woman out to set the world ablaze.

"Enjoy, you two!" Azalea dug into her Shepherd’s Pie, even as she eyed the Treacle Tart that Tom had promised.

"I promise, I won’t get you or your shop in trouble. They’re just more powerful than yours, and cast in Parseltongue. They’ll be strengthened by the Basilisk Hide, as well, so that’s a bonus. Oh, and Belladonna invited me by in two days’ time. Something about a potluck dinner and catching up." Small lie, but Gerontius just gazed at her sadly. It was likely that he had already figured out that she was leaving, but she would tell him everything in a couple of days. Meanwhile...

**

That evening, Azalea sat in front of her new trunk, running a finger along the scales and over the iron covering the corners. Beside her, the tent was set up, and she had the bedroll, pack, and hammock set off to the side. Skippy, the head House Elf at Potter Manor, was sorting all her clothes for packing. She had the other elves working on gathering all the furniture into one room, shrunk down to the size of doll furniture, and sorted by type and size. Others were gathering all the portraits of her ancestors, as well as any other paintings, like scenery. Once she furnished her tent and living space, what was left was going to furnish the renovated estates. She would be keeping the portraits, and maybe even some of the scenic paintings, with the rest also going back.

She sighed, and looked at the list of people she needed to talk to. _Aunt Petunia, Dudley, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Draco, and Luna are top priority. Then the rest of the Weasley Clan, Fleur, and Tonks. I will talk to all of them tomorrow, preferably in two separate groups. The day after that will be the Potluck Dinner at the Ribald’s. I have the letters drafted, just need to add the personalized touches and send them out._ Really, she should have spoken to the seven on her first list today, to give them as much time as possible to prepare, but she had spent too long in Diagon, gathering quotes to give to them. She would just have to wake up pretty early tomorrow, then. Gerontius knew enough now to tide him until the full story at the Potluck. Shaking her head to rid herself of the memory of watching three of the most important men in her life fall through the Veil, Azalea stood.

 _Might as well get as much done as I can,_ she thought grimly, grabbing boxes to pack up her three workshops and armoury. _It is going to be a busy week. If I can get a helping hand in putting these four rooms, the library, and the Potions lab put back together, then I can get the tent, at the very least, furnished, and hopefully the living space, too. Perhaps Neville will be willing to help me with the clippings of the plants I know I can care for on my own. I don’t want to take too much of their time, but the will have longer than I have to get ready._ With the four boxes packed and labelled, with others labelled for her library and the Potions lab set aside, and a list of the many potions needing to be made and set into kits, Azalea stripped and curled up, exhausted, in her new bedroll, ready to talk with Mother Magik.

**

Morning came with a shriek, and Azalea sat straight up, knife in one hand, the other glowing with magic as she worked on waking up. Eyes finally clear, she saw seventeen people standing in the middle of the nearly empty room that had once been the Master Suite of her Manor house. Turning a glare on the two innocently preening Phoenixes, she got up, ignoring the slightly self-conscious shuffling as her bare body was revealed.

“Right, give me a mo’ to get dressed, then I’ll say what these two feathered fiends want me to say.” Grabbing her clothes, she dressed swiftly, noting the additions of a box labelled clothes and a hanging rack near her trunk. “Look, I’m leaving. A few of you know this, though I know most of you do not, but I spent my years, from five to thirteen, visiting a world called Middle Earth. I made some very good friends there, though various events have kept me from visiting recently. The Higher Powers of Middle Earth, with the assent of Mother Magik, have asked me to make one last trip, one I will not be able to return from. Middle Earth is on the brink of war, and one of my dearest friends there is in a position similar to mine. I will help him, to the best of my abilities. Aunt Petunia, Dudley, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Neville, and Luna - first, I know I have no right to ask this, but will you help me?” All seven of them nodded, all of them with eyes that said she never had to ask. “Second, Hermione, I have since learned more about the Veil from what you sent me. It is a portal to Middle Earth. Meaning, yes, Severus, Sirius, and Remus are all alive.” Petunia nearly collapsed in relief. “This portal is how you will be getting to Middle Earth. Mother Magik will guide you.” She turned to the others. “I feel like I have even less of a right to ask you to join me, so I won’t. I won’t even considering asking you to rip up your lives here. But the offer is there. The offer is there, honestly, for all thirty-nine Medallion holders. I have quotes from the various stores I visited yesterday, and a small booklet of Middle Earth, including a packing guide. Gerontius is aware of this, mostly, and-” She was cut off as Petunia and Dudley sandwiched her into a hug.

“I think I can speak for all of us when I say we should have one more war within us to fight. And if I get a chance to slap Severus, then so be it. Just remember that I am a support person, not a fighter.” Azalea wrapped her arms around the two as she looked around, taking in a fretful Molly and ecstatic Fleur, the smirking Weasley men, the broad smile of Tonks, a dreamy Luna and solid Neville, to the analytical stare of Hermione and the raised eyebrow of Draco.

“Thank you. Mother Magik spoke, last night, saying that you would have a month, minimum, to prepare, so would you be able to help me?” Several heads nodded, even as Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Fleur, and Tonks all stated they needed to go to work. “Before you go, take a copy, each, of the quotes and booklets. Just keep them hidden.” They left, and Azalea turned to consider those left and consult her mental list.

“Draco, here’s a list of potions. War Packs and First Aid Kits, as many as you think I’ll need for a few months without the lot of you. After, get everything - ingredients, cauldrons, everything - into that box, and, if I’m not there, transport it to the Potions Cabinet using the password _Papa’s Lore_. You know my particular organization methods.” Draco grinned and grabbed the list and box, before snapping off a playful salute. “Don’t forget the pronunciation!” Her passwords were all in Westron, the highly secret language of the Hobbits.

“Hermione, that box should fit my library. Leave the shelves, but please grab every pedestal you can find. There’s a green, leather bound book on one of them that needs to be kept separate, as it will become the catalogue. Lord and Ladyship journals kept together in numerical order, I will move the grimoires due to the blood protections. Everything else is ordered by subject, then author, and finally title, if necessary. Password to the Library is _Knowledge_.” Hermione nodded firmly, before grabbing the box. “Oh! If you finish and Draco is still brewing, see if you can help him.” With a laugh, Hermione was gone.

“Dudley, that box holds the armoury. Password is _Mercenary_ , and if there are any repairs needing to be made, make note and, if there’s time before I leave, will you take care of them, particularly the weapon repairs?” Dudley nodded and bussed a kiss across her cheek before grabbing the box. “Afterwards, once I’m done with my task, will you and Aunt Petunia join me in purchasing whatever furnishings I don’t have?” The two nodded, and Aunt Petunia ran a hand over her braid.

“I will work with your house elves to get your kitchens and rations stocked. I’ll also make note of what I think you may need.” Without waiting for a response, Petunia turned and strode out of the room.

“Thank you! Ron, Luna, those boxes contain my Wood and Metal Workshops, respectively. Ron, _Elvendom_. Luna, _Erebor_. Let me know if you run into needed repairs.” Ron rolled his eyes as he grabbed the box, even as Luna skipped forward to do the same.

“You got it, Azalea.” Azalea relaxed as Luna’s airy voice wafted through the air, recognizing the effects of Luna’s brand of comfort.

"Molly, will you take that last box and set up my Home Crafts room, please? It’s _Shire._ ” Molly reached forward and drew her into a strong hug.

"Of course, dear, and when I'm done, I'll join your aunt for a time before I must return to the Burrow." Molly released her with a watery smile, filled with strength and conviction, and Azalea returned it with a comforting one of her own.

“Thank you, Molly.” She turned to Neville as Molly bustled out of the room. "Nev, will you work with Flipsy to gather clippings from as many of my greenhouses as you can? She knows which plants I can handle. They need to be sorted into Basic Healing and Cooking, Magical, and Other. Use as many boxes as you need, then set them by the trunk. I'll transfer them to the greenhouses." Neville nodded in his quiet manner and turned to leave. Azalea looked around and inhaled, biting back a vicious curse. She had forgotten to talk to Fred and George about the mailboxes.

She glanced at her list of compartments, then around at the remaining items in the room. First, she would have to get her clothes and linens sorted out, then she needed to go through and select furniture for the tent and living space, she hoped she was lucky enough to only need to get kitchen and bath furnishings. Before she got started, Pinky, her head chef, appeared.

“Mistress’ aunt was wondering where you wanted the food and rations for Mistress’ trip to be put, and Pinky found that Pinky did not know.” Azalea placed a hand on Pinky’s thin wrist, and smiled.

“Just pack it up, placed under as many protections as you can, separated by kitchen and travel, into boxes and place those against that wall there. I will further organize the food as I feel needs to happen when I get to packing. Be sure to leave enough for the week, and perhaps beyond, if the others need to use this place as a base while they pack.” Pinky nodded, and popped back to the kitchens. 

> _Wardrobe - Clothes_  
>  _Potions Cabinet - Papa’s Lore_  
>  _Library - Knowledge_  
>  _Filing Desk - Bilbo’s Craft_  
>  _Pantry - Food_  
>  _Miscellaneous - Extra_  
>  _Home Crafts - Shire_  
>  _Wood Workshop - Elvendom_  
>  _Metal Workshop - Erebor  
>  _ _Armoury - Mercenary  
>  _ _Living Space - Home_

Placing the list on her bedroll, Azalea quickly put her clothes into her new wardrobe compartment, sorting out the linens until she knew what would go where, and grabbed two empty boxes. It was time to go furniture hunting.

Deciding on a mismatched theme for the tent, she found five bunk beds of varying designs, and set them in a box. They were joined by five wardrobes, just in case she had many people needing to stay long term in the tent. Sleeping area mostly figured out, she turned towards the dining area. Following the thought of possibly hosting many people, she grabbed a large table and bench set that would seat eighteen, if people were friendly, and followed that with cast iron cookware and mismatched dishes. She decided against any of the kitchen appliances, making note to instead buy camper kitchen appliances later. That left a quiet area and a lounge area to be figured out, as well as linens. She grabbed three large sofas, five oversized chairs, and several bean bags, as well as a small bookshelf, a reading lamp, a short, but large, natural wooden slab table. Linens were easy; she just grabbed enough sheets to make ten sets, not bothering to match anything other than size, several bath towels, kitchen towels, napkins, and a couple different tablecloths and threw them into the box. She then added several rugs, decided that what she didn’t use in the tent could find a home in the living space, and vice versa.

Focusing now on the Living Space, she found several items made of Iron Oak that would match the desk, wardrobe, and cupboard that were linked to the compartments. Due to the trunk being Iron Oak, those items were also of the same wood, since they were actually manifestations of the trunk itself. With a loft bed and a vanity set aside, as well as a standing mirror, she decided on a five-foot chaise lounger and wall shelves to go under the loft, and nearly danced a jig upon finding several sectionals - enough for a personal lounge as well as the family room. She chose an eight foot and a six-foot sectional with a six-foot chaise sectional for her personal lounge, all in a calming dark brown, and added several end tables. She grabbed several sets of bed linens, all matched and all in dark colors, as well as large area rugs in both neutral tones and jewel tones. With the bathroom furnishings waiting to be bought, she grabbed several bath mats and towels, and items beyond the tub and shower so that she could match the finish.

For the family room, she grabbed enough sectionals to make a large ten food square, added a couple of coffee tables, and turned back to the oversized chairs. While the sectional made for great group discussions, oversized chairs made for better relaxation. Adding several matching chairs, she also grabbed a few more end tables and two small bookshelves. Further following the idea of hosting many (and really, she rather enjoyed large gatherings anyway, so it all worked out), she grabbed a large dining table, this one only seating ten, and surveyed the remaining pieces. Grabbing a couple of chess tables, she grinned. So far, everything was turning out nicely. Cookware, table linens, and china were added to the pile, and she put it all in a second box labeled Living Space.

With the bedroom, family room, and kitchen taken care of, she grabbed some runners for the corridor, then went through everything. All three workshops were fully stocked, the greenhouses had their tools, and the armoury did not need anything. She grabbed several sturdy lab tables for the Potions Lab, being the only thing she was missing, and work tables and reading chairs for the library. The outdoors room - that she had started calling the yard - was one hundred acres of land, some open, some forested, with a Quidditch Pitch. Deciding on some furniture, she grabbed several lawn chairs, a few picnic tables, and made a note to purchase supplies for a fire pit and barbecue pit. That done, she grabbed the boxes and took them to the room she had been keeping things to pack.

With the furniture boxes set aside, she grabbed the several floating notes. Molly had finished the Home Craft Workshop, making note that everything was in working order, and Petunia had sent her home to start cleaning and packing the Burrow. Dudley said that he had finished the armoury and had taken some things outside to repair with Luna's aid. Hermione and Ron had finished their tasks and were with Draco, brewing. Neville had simply asked if he could have some clippings from her Greenhouses. Looking around, she noted that there were several boxes labeled with what plants were inside. Grinning, she shook her head, planning on talking with Neville about the clippings she had already set aside for him. This meant that all she needed to do was buy the missing furnishings, install them, furnish the tent and living space, and then pack everything to her liking. With a relaxed sigh, Azalea grabbed the letters to run edits while she was in the vehicle, and turned towards the door. Things were much easier with people helping. It was time to go shopping.

On the lawn, she spotted Dudley and Luna finishing up repairs, and smiled. Luna was so small, even next to her, that she was practically dwarfed next to her cousin.

"Hey guys! Dudley, you ready?" The two turned, and grinned.

"Yeah, just finished this last mannequin. Let go get mum."

"You should do a waterfall, Azalea. I'll go help brew." Luna skipped off, and she shook her head. Of course Luna knew she was debating on that. The bathing area in the tent was large, though not ginormous, and she had been thinking about making it look like a natural hot spring with a waterfall. Most of it would be charm work, but she would need to get stone.

"So, I was thinking a Barbecue Pit and Fire Pit, a large Jacuzzi tub, two sets of kitchen appliances, one full size and one camper size, as well as some island counters, and, apparently, stone for a waterfall." Dudley nodded, already jotting down potential places to find the right materials, and they left, Aunt Petunia driving while they discussed the pros and cons of the various brands they were researching, letters in her purse, forgotten for the moment.

**

Setting the purchases down, she rushed back down to the Potions Lab, intent on grabbing Draco, Luna, Hermione, and Ron. It was time for dinner, then they needed to get started on their own packing and distribution. The potions were at the point of packing, and the lab was ready to be transferred, and beyond that, she could finish, easily, on her own. Tomorrow, the letters would go out, and she would tell the Ribald Clan.

After dinner, she sorted through the boxes, finally being able to add the Potions Lab to the trunk. Her desk supplies, Potion's lab, portraits, and furniture were set with the full kitchen, bathroom, yard equipment, and plants by her trunk, while everything else was set in front of the tent.

The right half of the wardrobe was an expandable hanging rack, and the left half was shelving, with a long shelf going along the width, and the bottom of each side had a drawer a piece. The right door had a shoe rack with belt slots, and the right door had a mirror. She quickly made sure her robes, cloaks, and dresses were all on the wooden hangers, and her knickers, chest bindings, night clothes, shirts and vests were on one shelf, with her trousers and light armour on another. She placed the extra linens and pillows on the top shelf, with her framed pictures along the long shelf, to be placed around her room later. Her boots and flats went in their respective spots, as did her belts, and she placed her hair stuff in one drawer, and what counted as feminine products in Arda in the other drawer. After making sure her rushed job from earlier was fixed, she nodded firmly.

The Potions Cabinet was very simple, with shelving for completed potions, and several drawers for bottled ingredients and empty bottles. The well in front of the cabinet, within the trunk itself, was padded for optimum storage of various cauldrons and stirring rods. The Filing Desk was nothing more than two filing cabinets of varying drawer sizes with a top connecting them for her to write on, and a folding chair stored between them. Both were filled swiftly, and she skipped the Pantry until she had furnished the tent. Opening the Miscellaneous compartment, she placed the boxes with containing items for the Living Space, with plenty of protective charms around the plant clippings, before closing the lid. It was late, so she just slid the boxes containing the tent items into the tent itself, before collapsing onto her bedroll.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast, she entered the tent and sorted out the boxes and furniture, already mentally dividing the tent. The tent was large, twenty-eight feet by forty-two feet, with a small kitchen area, a water closet, and a large shower already sectioned off. She grabbed the appliances she needed to install and went straight to the kitchen.

An hour later, she was just finishing the charm work on the shower to finalize the effect of a waterfall down to a natural pool that took up the entire room. Satisfied, she stretched and set out as many rugs as she dared before starting to set up the furniture. The bunk beds and wardrobes were set up efficiently and she conjured some curtains to keep the area private. The bookshelf and two of the chairs, as well as the reading lamps, went against the back wall, and the table and benches were set up along the left wall. Finally, she set the three sofas and remaining chairs around the center, surrounding the natural cut wood top table and set the beanbags around randomly. Pleased, she exited and collapsed the tent, putting it in its storage bag and putting it back in the compartment.

By this time, Dudley had arrived, and they were ready to get started on the Living Space. Dudley would be working on putting together the two pits in the yard while she focused on everything else.

She once again started with installing appliances, starting with the bathroom, enlarging the Jacuzzi tub to take up half the 10X20 space. The shower was simpler, but everything had green marble inlays, and she put the towels in the linen cabinet between the water closet and the shower.

In the bedroom, she put up wooden screens to act as walls, separating the area for a private lounge from the rest of the room. Her loft bed with the chaise underneath was set in the far-left corner, her desk against the back wall, and the wardrobe, vanity, and cupboard were set along the wall shared with the bathroom. After much deliberation, she put the standing mirror in the back-right corner, then set up the sectionals in the lounge, setting end tables around to provide some kind of setting.

In the family room, she put the rest of the sectionals and the coffee table in one corner, set up the quiet corner with two over sized chairs, several beanbags, and a bookshelf. Another corner held the dining table, and she put the last bookshelf in the last corner, along with a sturdy poker table and the chess table. That corner was for games, and she would damn well make sure she had them stocked.

Once the linens were put away, she grabbed the family portraits and used her magic to hang them around the Space; most of them went to library, with the secondary portraits going elsewhere, but her parents were put in her personal lounge. She quickly put the work tables in the lab, and went to set up the kitchen, the last area to furnish.

All that was left was to pack her pack, send out the letters, and get what was needed back to Griphook, as well as work with Fred and George on the Mailboxes - she had finally remembered to contact them about that. But most of that would have to wait. For now, she had to get ready to go to the Ribald's.

**

Seven days had passed since Azalea made the decision to leave, and now, in front of her stood the Varda, looking a little more stressed.

"I will be taking you to Rivendell; Frodo is there. Do you have everything?" Azalea took a moment to mentally review everything. Had she remembered to tell those that were following her to wait for Mother Magik? _Yes._ Did she remember to pack all her clothes? _Yes._ Did she remember to grab her trunk? _Yes, it was the phoenix pin on her vest._ Her pack? _Yes, and it had everything in and on it._ Her walking stick? _Yes, Petunia had made sure she had it._ Did Fawkes remember that he needed to stay and arrive with the next group? _Yes, and he was upset about it since Hedwig had gone on ahead._

"Yes, I have everything. If I forgot anything, chances are those following will grab it. I am ready." Varda gave her a strained smile.

"Very well. Fair warning, you may be disoriented by this form of travel. Your Ice Phoenix is waiting for you, as is your brother. Come.” Azalea took her hand, closing her eyes in preparation. She remembered how bad it once was to travel like this.

This form of travel was, indeed, very disorienting, and once she landed, Azalea did not bother to take note of her surroundings in favor of dropping down to put her head between her knees.


	2. Interlude I - Azalea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an interlude of Azalea’s younger years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was an idiot and forgot to put the next chapter in a draft for me to edit while I was on break during my work hours, so this came to mind.
> 
> It’s slow going, and most interludes will be short, but I hope they provide enough background to foster a similar love in you, my readers, that I have for all my characters.

Azalea curled in her cousin’s arms as she listened to the shouts from down stairs. Uncle Vernon was angry that Aunt Petunia treated her like a daughter, that much she could tell. Dudley ran a hand over her riotous curls, neither of them allowing themselves to utter a sound, just in case he was drunk, too. They were hidden in the back of Dudley’s wardrobe, having piled as many folded blankets infront of them as they could in an attempt to hide.

Abruptly, the sounds from downstairs halted. In the ringing silence left behind, Dudley pulled away from her, edging towards the door in confusion, ignoring Azalea’s silent attempts to draw him back. The room was dark beyond the cracked wardrobe door, darker than it had any right to be, and Azalea flung herself after her cousin, only to be scooped up into thin arms. Thinking for a moment it was her aunt, Azalea didn’t fight, only turned to hug the woman.

But there, in front of her, was not her aunt. The woman holding her had shifting features, making hard for Azalea to describe her. One moment, she had brown-blonde hair with dark blue eyes, and sharp features. Another moment, she had wine red hair and brilliant green eyes with slightly softer features. The features that surfaced most often, however, was wild blue-black spikes, looking like she had been electrocuted, kaleidoscopic eyes, olive tanned skin, sharp bone features set in a narrow face, thin lips, and a small nose. Even at nearly five, Azalea could sense a near feral quality to the woman holding, but she didn’t feel any fear.

”Hello, Childe of Mine.” The woman’s voice thrummed powerfully, causing Azalea to try to muffle the effects by clapping her hands over her ears. Even with the barrier, she could tell there was more than one voice speaking. “You are a special Childe. You are strong, and marked. Marked for great things. Hmm. Someone has interfered with my plan. So I shall interfere with theirs. Yes, that will work.” The woman trailed off, muttering to herself as she rocked gently.

”Who’re you?” Already missing both her front teeth, thanks to her Uncle Vernon, the words slurred and whistled, but they caught the woman’s attention either way.

”I am the Mother of all Magik, Childe. In every world, and every universe, I am there, guiding the spark that others call magic, whether it shows up as a true magical talent, or as some latent form, such as a minor ability to sense the future. I help people nurture that seed within. But you, Childe, can just call me Mother.” Azalea liked the sound of that. She never knew her birth mother, as Aunt Petunia claimed that bad people killed her and her father. “You, little Azalea, have a birthday coming up. Five years old is a milestone. It’s when your magical core starts to strengthen and greater feats of magic will appear. Where before, you were floating your toys and changing their colors, you will find that, when your emotions are high, like during a tantrum, or when scared, your magic will lash out. Break things, change things. Yes, a milestone indeed. I think, however, you need a break. Close your eyes.”

”Break from what?” Mother chuckled lowly, tracing a finger down the sode of her face, bruised from Uncle Vernon’s fit last night when he threw her into a wall.

”From your uncle. I will take you somewhere safe. Somewhere you can make friends, and possibly find another family, not that you can stay. If you stay longer than one month a year, you cannot return.” Azalea’s head tilted to the side, like a bird examining its surroundings.

”So, I can only spend thirty days of every year?” Mother smiled gently.

”Yes, Childe. You will be learning new things. Now, close your eyes. I will take you there, and when I return to bring you back here, you won’t have to worry about your uncle.” Azalea did so, and immediately had trouble breathing.

**

Azalea frowned as her essay was returned to her, marked entirely with red, and a bold T across the top, marking a failing grade. The comments were so cramped over her blavk ink, that she was having trouble deciphering what they said. She would have to talk to Professor Snape after class, and she was thankful it was her last class of the day. All through class, she wondered how she had nessed up her assignment so badly, seeing as no other essay in any other class had been so massacred.

When the class was dismissed at the bell, the eleven year old gathered her bag, essay in hand, before approaching Professor Snape.

”Sir? Could I ask you a few questions, clear things up? Please?” She did her best to hode her nervousness, breathig deeply like she had learned for traveling to Middle Earth. He raised his eyebrow sardonically, and she took another breath to continue. “It’s just that with the mix of two different handwritings over each other, I’m having trouble deciphering your comments, and i really would like to know how I messed the assignment so badly to receive a Troll, when Hermione and I used the same books to do this, and she received an E. We worked separately, only sharing books, not ideas.” Professor Snape moved around his desk suddenly, and she stopped talking.

”Your handwriting is atrocious and unreadable. That is why you received a Troll. Get out.” She ignored the last command in favor of staring at him.

”I tried learning the way the ledgers taught, and that way of holding a quill and writing does not allow for long term writing. I learned to write in a different language. At least I finally learned to translate it to English before turning in the assignment. Besides, no one else has had trouble reading my writing.” With the final remark, spoken angrily, she swept from the room, ignoring his calls to return. Before she knew it, she found herself outside Professor McGonagall’s office, staring at the stern woman, ignoring the tears of frustration gathering in her eyes as she held her essay out to her without a word. Professor McGonagall took the essay gently, before pushing her into a seat and pouring her a cup of tea.

“Drink, have a biscuit. Calm yourself, then we can try to talk.” Azalea nodded, breathing deeply once more.

”Please read that, Professor,” she managed to pinch out before curling her hands around the teacup. She watched as Professor McGonagall’s confusion and anger grew.

”Did you ask him what was wrong with your theory? From what I remember of Potions, you got it right.”

”I asked him why i received a Troll, since I couldn’t read his remarks, cramped as they are - I cannot read his writing on the board, either - and he said it was because my ‘handwriting is atrocious and unreadable.’ But no one else has said anything. Professor, I learned to write in a language other than English, even of my first spoken language was English. At least I’m finally rememberig to translate into English and remove all the unnecessary accent marks beofre turning in an assignment.” She stopped as Professor McGonagall’s hand caught hers were it was flying through the air.

”I will bring it up at the weekly staff meeting tonight. Professor Snape has no room to talk about atrocious handwriting, because at least half the first years, every year and without fail, cannot read his writing. All of them are students who grew up writing with a quill. Now, I assume you have another copy of this essay?” Azalea wavered slightly.

”Kind of, Professor. I have a rough draft, from which this one was written. Would you like me to make another final copy?” The older woman nodded, pointing her towards a small table in the corner of her office.

”Normally I use that desk for students serving detentions, but sit there and write it here in my office.” Azalea nodded, thankful for her tendency to carry a journal for every class containing her notes and homework drafts in her school bag, regardless of whether she had that class today or not. Within minutes of pulling out her materials, Azalea was deep within a mindset, ignoring her surroundings, and therefore unaware of Professor Snape entering the room, only to be hit with a Silencing Charm.

”Sit and watch, Severus. She’s been writing for two minutes straight, with no more a pause than what it takes to get more ink on the nib.” The two sat and watched, one scowling, the other proud, as Azalea wrote for thirty minutes, only stopping to consult a handwritten translating dictionary, muttering under her breath angrily. As she cleaned and sharpened her quill, Prfessor McGonagall spoke softly. “She cannot hear us, but notice that her habd is not tired. She held the quill differently, wrote neatly without cramping, and even from here, I can clearly read what she has written. I will remind you, Severus, that your students who were raised learning to write with a quill are never able to read your writing in their first year. She is one of them, and she was taught differently. I will be bringing this up tonight. In front of Albus.”

”Professor, I’ve finished. May I be excused?” Azalea worked to ignore the sight of Professor Snape glaring at her, and focused on her Head of House.

”Go on. Leave your work there, I will collect it. Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Potter.”

**

Azalea sighed as she turned over to face the tree. It had been a rough first term, and even now, the main reason had followed her home. Professor Snape had decided on a house call to ‘berate that idiot woman for teaching someone to accept atrocious habits’ only to be shocked by a slap to the face. That had been hilarious, though she hadn’t laughed, instead choosing to turn around and continue putting ornaments on the tree.

But Professor Snape hadn’t left, choosing to go watch them suspiciously. She knew that the parents in Number Six were close to calling the police, but the point was, she was unable to travel to Middle Earth, and celebrate a late Yule with Bilbo and Frodo.

**

Two twelve year olds rolled their eyes as Severus Snape fretted about it being too soon. They knew he wanted to marry Petunia, but it had only been half a year, roughly, leading to this scene. Both of them were wearing the lockets given to them, and the wedding was going to happen in three weeks.

”I’ll go get auntie. She can take care of this.” Dudley snorted, gently shoving his cousin as she turned around.

”After that, go ahead and spend your week.”

**

Azalea breathed deeply, calming the nausea that was building, before opening her brilliant green eyes and taking in the gently rolling hills of the Shire. It was good to be back. She had been so glad that the 23 of September, also known as the first of Winterfilth, and Bilbo and Frodo’s shared birthday, fell over the weekend. It made it easier for her to visit.  It was Frodo’s thirty-third, and he was coming of age. She just hoped he liked the pocket watch she had gotten for him.

**

Azalea stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, listening to her aunt sob quietly. Dudley, she knew, was down in the kitchen, trying to make dinner, even though they both knew that Perunia wouldn’t eat.

She debated going to see Frodo. She felt that she needed the comfort her older brother could give. But no. She couldn’t. She couldn’t taint her hobbit family with her battle tested ways.

**

Azalea growled as Voldemort fled. She had been so close, but he reached the ward line before her spell could connect. Fine. She would just have to become better than him.

”Hermione, initiate Operation: Warlock.” The witch beside her hummed in assent, and they returned to the rest who considered themselves part of an army. Of her army, apparently. It was time to heal up.

”At least the Horcruxes were taken care of.” Ron melted from the shadows, eyes roving over their forms, looking for obvious injuries. Azalea ignored that.

”You two work with Neville, Luna, and Draco. Belladonna and her family are still captives of Bellatrix. Get them back, and keep an eye out on the activity. Don’t stretch too thin, though. We’re a small force, comparatively. I will be back as soon as I can.” With that, Azalea stalked to the ward line herself.

**

Green eyes shined in triumph as the two phoenixes nipped her. Forming on her sides, amd spreading along her arms and legs, she could feel the magic branding her leaving color in its path. And she was told she would never be a proper Warlock because she was a Witch. Hedwig and Fawkes settled on her shoulders, and she swept from the mountain top retreat. It was time to end this, once and for all.


	3. 02. Even More Preparation ... for Yuletide and Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azalea crashes a meeting and takes control, quite on accident, and the Fellowship is formed. Friendships are forged, and arguments begin it simmer into being. Yuletide approaches quickly, and all in all, Azalea is ready to go - her uncles are out there, waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after nearly a month (sorry, but work comes first, because I like being paid) I can finally give you guys Chapter Two. I just finished editing it last night. The only reason it wasn't posted was because I had to get up early this morning. But here we are now.

Frodo sighed as even Gandalf started to argue with people, though it was more that he was trying to get people to listen to logic and reason, and exchanged an amused look with Bilbo at the irony. Across the sea of people, Strider, _no, Aragorn, he needed to remember that,_ sat, looking annoyed, and Lord Elrond sat nearby, resigned. He was about to verbalize an observation – about what, he had no clue – when Bilbo shifted closer to him to be heard under the din.

"That Childe is late, my lad. This will be her last trip, though, so no more to worry about, yes?" Bilbo’s amused glance caused him to smile grimly. It had been seventeen years since he had last seen his heart sister, Azalea, who traveled between worlds. She had been a sweet girl of thirteen, and it had been his and Bilbo’s last shared birthday party. He remembered her pale skin and bright smile with even brighter eyes. Last he remembered, her hair had been as dark as her smile was bright, a deep black that shone blue under the right light, and forever with a mind of its own when left alone. She was twenty years younger than he, but back then she seemed so much more mature than others her age.

"Is she really coming, then, Bilbo? I thought she had forgotten us, or died." Bilbo’s wrinkled hand settled on his arm.

"Nonsense, lad. She’ll be here, and she has not forgotten. Don’t think like that. Ah, there she is. Go on now. It looks like she could use your help, my lad." Sure enough, Azalea appeared, hunched over in a seated position, dark head between her knees, near Strider’s seat, thankfully out of the way of everyone else. Lord Elrond and Strider were the only other ones to notice her arrival, and gazed at her curiously while he skirted around the chairs to kneel at her side.

"Hey Azalea. Hey there, breath for me, properly now. In eight counts, out four counts, match me. You’re safe, no one will hurt you. Come back to me now. There you are, there are those bright emeralds. Smile for me, thank you. It’s been nearly twenty years, sister, and you have matured well. Dear Yavanna, you’re thirty now, aren’t you? Wow. I’ve missed you." The weary chuckle that his sister uttered broke his heart and put it back together at the same time; she had no business sounding so weary of everything, she still had a lot to live for. Last he heard, she was mentally preparing for war, despite having just turned thirteen. Just how bad had that war been?

"Hey Frodo, thank you for that. And I’m so sorry for not visiting. War happened, and I didn’t want to risk anything. But that doesn’t excuse the last five years." She looked so downtrodden that he cooed softly and pulled her into another warm hug, rocking side to side as he filled his senses with her nearly forgotten scent and feel.

"Don’t you worry, Aza. There is nothing to forgive. Come, up off the floor you get. Is that a pack? You don’t normally bring a full pack with you. And by the Green Hills, you are tall. I thought you would stay, well, not short, but I didn’t think you’d grow this much. Wow, but it is a good look on you." A lighter chuckle passed her lips, and Frodo relaxed and wound his arms around her waist, head resting just under her bust. "I am so happy to see you."

"And I, you. Mother told me a war was brewing, and informed me I had reached my final decision; stay where I would surely die, or leave and join the effort where, should I survive, I would live a long and prosperous life. Considering she’s allowing my dearest to follow me, the decision was easy. I packed up all I owned, and I have it all with me. I will be the most prepared person in this war effort - I even have the kitchen sink!" Frodo muffled his laughter in her vest, and turned to Strider, who had been watching them closely, and her with no small amount of suspicion.

"Stri- Aragorn, this is my heart sister, Azalea. Aza, this is Aragorn, a Ranger of the North, often called Strider. He got me, Sam, Merry, and Pippin here safely." Aza wrapped an arm around him as she stared at the man.

"Mostly safely. I almost failed, Frodo." He watched as her eyes narrowed dangerously. Either she would berate him for almost failing, or she would pick apart his reasoning and prove it wasn't his fault. Either one would prove to be entertaining to watch, for him.

"Did you do everything you could, as a single person who cannot physically be in multiple places at once, to protect not one Hobbit, but four Hobbits, two of whom are still on the younger side, all of whom are extremely curious, from death?" Strider stared at her for a moment, and Frodo pressed his face into her side to prevent himself from laughing. Looked like it was the second option.

"Yes, but..." Frodo couldn’t see Azalea’s face, but Aragorn couldn’t hide his look of intrigue in time. Was he falling into the trap of believing she could not understand fighting and strategy because she was female? Frodo had heard rumors of female Rangers before, but he did not know if they were more than rumors or not.

"No buts. You did everything you could, and that is what counts. Let me guess, if you’re a Ranger, you had them up in a normally safe and defensible area, went ahead to scout, just to make sure, or possibly hunt, seeing as there were four Hobbits, and I know how much they can eat, and they were attacked then? Well, I can’t fault you for someone waiting for the most opportune moment. I would have done the same, but I would have gone after you. You were their guide. Without you, they may not have made it far. Just saying.” She paused, and Frodo could feel her muscles tense as she looked around the room. When she spoke again, her voice was strained beyond belief. “Now, Frodo, I believe I know what’s going on. That trinket on the plinth is a Dark Object, crafted with Dark Magik, is it not?" Frodo’s head snapped up, gaze catching his sister’s. He was about to ask how she knew, but the dark, haunted look was back, and he nodded.

"It is. We are looking to destroy it, but that can only be done in the Fires of Mount Doom. They are arguing over who would take the ring, or rather, how much they would rather be dead than see the ring in the hands of the other race. But..." Frodo trailed off. Much as he would rather go back to the Shire, he had held the Ring in his possession for seventeen years. He would rather see this through; as Bilbo had said, he had started this, might as well finish it. But Bilbo was too old now. Frodo had held it, now it was time for Frodo to end it. "Will you bring silence to them?" Azalea smiled and pressed a kiss to his temple, before raising her hand, harshly pinching her forefinger and thumb together, causing everyone’s mouth to seal shut. Watching everyone look around in a panic and reach for weapons that were not there was actually rather amusing, but Frodo focused on his words instead of laughing like he wanted to. Strider, the traitor, was almost instantly red from holding back his amusement. It seemed that Azalea’s dissection of his actions had convinced him that she was friendly.

"Thank you. I believe Frodo has been trying to get your attention." _Not really, but who am I to argue when it allows me to say what I feel I need to say._

"I will take the Ring to Mordor, though I do not know the way." He absently noted everyone staring at Azalea in shock, everyone, that is, except Gandalf, who just looked amused whenever he looked at her.

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear." Gandalf left his amused staring to place a hand on Frodo’s shoulder, who’s eyes searched out Bilbo, looking on in sympathetic approval. Aragorn kneeling in front of him, hands on his upper arms, pulled his attention back, and he was surprised to note that, at some point, Azalea had left his grip.

"If, by my life or death, I can protect you, I will. You have my sword." He stood as the blond elf from earlier, Legolas, betrothed to Arwen, if he remembered correctly, stepped forward, looking somewhat ashamed that he had been pulled into the arguments.

"And you have my bow." Gimli, the son of Gloin, who had greeted Bilbo enthusiastically, looked somewhat outraged at this, probably a matter of pride in not being seen as less than an elf, which led to his blustery interjection of:

"And my axe!" Legolas resolutely did not look at Gimli for long, even as he appeared exasperated for a long time; Gimli, on the other hand, looked resigned almost as soon as he had interjected. Azalea stepped forward, leaning over the Ring, hands clasped tightly behind her back, and hummed, drawing attention in the quiet.

“Such a shame my normal methods of destroying soul containers won’t work on this thing. Frodo, I swear, on my magic, that I will do everything I can to help you. I will lend all my help and resources until this trinket is destroyed or you send me from your side. So mote it be.” A brief flash of light connected the two of them before fading. Frodo was surprised; something must have happened in the last seventeen years for her to use a vow that deep.

"You carry the fates of us all, little one." Frodo bristled at the epitaph, even as Azalea stepped around behind him and ran a hand through his curls. "If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done." Boromir’s statement surprised him after everything he had said earlier, but he couldn’t very well question the man, so he quietly accepted this, vowing to keep an eye on him, and everyone, just in case. That Ring was very dangerous. Just seeing Azalea leaning over it had worried him, though that was more for her safety than the ring’s.

"Master Frodo’s not going anywhere without me!" Sam bursting from the bushes actually managed to surprise him; with Aza’s arrival, he had forgotten the fact that he had spotted Sam back when the Council had started. Apparently, no one else had spotted him, though, and Frodo took the time to remember seeing his cousins at the door. He couldn't wait to see the reactions of everyone missing three very obviously eavesdropping Hobbits. _Well,_ he amended as he glanced at Azalea’s completely unsurprised look, _almost everyone missed them, but she also knows them very well. Pippin is only two years younger than her, after all._

"No, indeed. It is hard to keep the two of you separated, even when one is invited to a secret council and the other is not." Sam looked down at Lord Elrond’s partially amused, partially annoyed words, but Azalea’s soft commentary stopped anything else.

"Story of my life, there. Hard going somewhere without your most trusted and dearest poking their nose in your business." Elrond's head tilted slightly in acknowledgement of her words, and Frodo found he was looking forward to possibly meeting those Azalea trusted.

"Oy! We’re coming too!" More people jumped, and even Lord Elrond looked more amused than annoyed now. Apparently, he had spotted those two, though that made sense. They were younger, and therefore more prone to being caught.

"You’ll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us! Anyway, you’ll need people of intelligence on this sort of mission... quest... thing." Oh Pippin, always so stubborn.

"Well that rules you out, Pip." That was some classic cousin savagery, and Azalea recognized it too, if the way her hands tightened were any indication. _And cue her own nugget of snark in three, two, one..._

"I’ve pulled more intelligent missions with complete dunderheads who should have been on the destruction teams. Don’t worry Pippin, you’ll have a use or two." And there it was. He was going to explode from the laughter he was keeping in. Sam and Gandalf were also shaking, and he could hear Bilbo chuckling away in his seat.

"Ten companions. So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring." And that was that. Frodo slid the ring back on the chain and put it around his neck, even as Pippin’s next words broke the dam.

"Great! Where are we going? I got distracted by Aza’s arrival." Merry glared at Pippin, who smiled guilelessly back.

"I’m more worried about the fact that no one is protesting the fact that a mere girl, likely no more than ten, is joining us." That quickly calmed the laughter, and Pippin was the first one in motion, quickly latching himself around Azalea’s waist, likely remembering her explosive temper. Azalea, on the other hand, simply placed a hand on Pippin’s back and straightened to her full height.

“I am Azalea Jaime Potter. I am a commander, war veteran, and a warlock - a wizard trained in the highest and most powerful battle magiks in my homeland. I am a hunter and a tracker, and I relish the feelings. I may be capable of making house, but before I spent the last five years learning those intricacies, I spent ten years on the front line, fighting an inherited war, leading my army of fellow children. I am thirty years old, and almost as tall as you.” Frodo did a double take, noticing that, yes, Azalea was only an inch shorter than the Men. “But no, I suppose I am a mere girl of ten, aren’t I? To be wrapped in cotton-wool, and placed in a guarded tower, to keep my virtue safe. Here’s an open secret: I have no virtue. Not after spending a cumulative total of two years as a prisoner of war with murderers, rapists, and outright beasts.” There was a collective whimper as the words registered with Frodo and his fellow Hobbits. Their sweet, bright, whirlwind of a sister and friend had been hurt in unbelievable ways. Frodo felt an instinctive urge to make others hurt for that.

"She very quickly figured out what I meant when I said I failed in getting the Hobbits here safely, then continued on to correctly analyze a situation she had not been there for and say it was not my fault. She then stated what she would have done if she had been the attacker. I can only say, I am thankful she is not on the side of the Nazgul, or just the enemy, because her method would have seen all five of us dead." Aragorn shrugged as he relayed this information, gazing at Azalea with a mix of sympathy and pride. _Perhaps he sees her as one of his Rangers._ Before anyone could say anything else, Gandalf piped up.

"I also requested her presence. She was just a bit behind schedule, that is all." Boromir did not look happy that his arguments were being debunked, but before he could bring up anymore, Azalea turned an incredulous gaze onto Gandalf.

"Nonsense! I arrive precisely when I mean to. Not a moment before, and not a moment late." He didn't have to see her face to know she was grinning, and Frodo recalled Gandalf saying a similar phrase, seventeen years previously, to the two of them. "Not my fault others perceive it as early or late. If I wanted to arrive sooner or later, then I would damn well do so! Now, where can I set my pack and cloak, and possibly get some lunch? It was well before breakfast when I left, and I long ago learned not to eat before traveling by magical means. Oh, hello there Uncle Bilbo! I haven't seen you since you left the Shire! Oh, that was a big to-do there, with your disappearing act. So glad I got permission to join you that day. How've you been?" Frodo chuckled as he gazed around, somewhat surprised to note that everyone else had left.

**

Aragorn was observing the pandemonium the Council had turned to, noticing Elrond’s resigned glances toward the whispering Hobbits. He was about to get up to join them when a figure appeared at his side, head between their legs as if fighting nausea. There was a leather pack on their back, and he noted bare arms marked with black, blue, and orange-red lines, before Frodo blocked some of his vision, kneeling down beside the figure, coaching them through breathing exercises.

Black hair spilled across her shoulders when she looked up, gazing happily at Frodo, though he could see a lingering dark look of sadness in the back of her emerald gaze. They spoke more as Aragorn’s eyes wandered to the blue vest she wore, like a corset, decorated with a bronze eagle paired with black trousers. It was actually a rather striking look, and intimidating, he was sure, if she was visibly angry. He spotted several signs of hidden weapons, as well as several faded scars. He glanced around, specifically toward the Men of Gondor, and had to suppress a grin. That would be a potentially fun encounter to watch.

**

Azalea sat down amongst the five Hobbits, piling her plate with food. She hadn’t been kidding when she indicated she was hungry. While the Fellowship had been formed, they still would not leave for a couple of months, to allow Frodo’s shoulder to heal even further while the scouts gathered intel.

"So, seventeen years is a long time. What milestones have I missed? I know for certain I missed two Coming of Age parties. What else have I missed?" Even as she tried to relax, she could feel her nerves mounting, and just let her mouth run, hoping she didn’t dig a grave.

"Well, Frodo is renting out Bag End, with the possibility of a sale, especially if he decides not to return to the Shire, or... you know..." Azalea nodded, understanding that something was being avoided, especially once she caught Aragorn gazing at them in contemplation.

"Of course. I only had a week to scrounge up plans for my properties and fortune, but I decided to turn them into orphanages and schools. Bilbo, how’s the book writing coming along?" She finally remembered that Pippin was still under age, and made note talk to him in private later. They were her Hobbits, her family, and hers to protect, and, even if they were under age, she would let it lie, provided they follow some ground rules. She remembered having to do so for so many of her fellow fighters during the war, but there had been almost no other option.

"Oh, quite well, my dear. Almost finished. And when this group comes back, why, I will record that, too! So, everyone needs to keep a detailed journal! Makes it easy to remember things, you see!" Chuckles went up around the group and beyond, as well as more than a few groans. Azalea grinned, ready to add to the dismay and amusement.

"I can help with that. I recently started to learn book binding, and I’ve been looking for a great chance to practice. And that brings up an idea! We have the official record, and then the Fellowship Journals, written by each member of the Fellowship-" She caught the apple Gimli had tossed her way without even glancing his way. "Thank you for the apple, Gimli, but you could have just said it was a bad idea."

"Not bad, lass, just not the best place to talk about it. We have two months to plan in order to leave." She stared at him aghast. Perhaps it was just the Commander in her, but not using the full two months to plan was something she couldn’t imagine doing.

"And that’s the best time to plan what we’ll be doing in the long boring days of nothing but walking. Trust me, I’ve been on these kinds of journeys, in the middle of war. We fought boredom more than we fought battles those days." Four head hit the table around her, and Gandalf chuckled.

"You might not have told them they were walking, dear girl. Or rather, that it would be days on end of walking. Remember-"

"Yes, yes. Hobbits are creatures of leisure and comfort. Don’t worry, in two months, they’ll be able to handle it, and only three quick meals a day. But then, I figure between everyone here, we can also teach them which plants are good snacking plants - berries, nuts, roots that don’t really need to be cooked." She let her mouth run even as she thought back on the wilderness survival that she could remember, and honestly, she needed some refresher courses, so to speak.

"You have everything thought out, don’t you?" Strider’s drily amused tone caused her to turn and face him brows furrowed.

"Not exactly. I don’t know enough to plan. I only know my own experiences with being on the run during war. With leading a patchwork army, while on the run, during war. We had to live off the land, and had several near misses with local flora and fauna. I’m actually relying on others to tell me when I’m wrong - things here are different than back home. I’m from way further north than your maps indicate." It was something Mother Magik had told her to say, twenty-five years ago when she first traveled, and she was sticking to it. Frodo wrapped an arm around her waist, leaning into her side, and she wound her arm over his shoulders in return.

"We Hobbits instinctively know our plants, but we also need to learn what plants will harm other races. Just so it’s known, no plant can kill a Hobbit. Some can make us very sick, and we’ll let you know which ones will do so, but we don’t know what is poisonous to everyone else. Now, tell me all the crafts you’ve learned! This vest was hand tailored to you, but did you do it? Or did your cousin? What about your aunt? You told us she was a dab hand at tailoring. Come on, what have you learned, what can you do?" Azalea laughed and ran a hand down the sapphire blue vest, lined with soft rabbit fur, and sporting a bronze eagle on the left breast.

"I took lessons from my aunt, and once I stopped growing, Dudley and I worked on making a few mannequins to my body measurements so that I could make my own clothes. Dudley and I continued our summer classes with metalworking and woodworking, and Molly Weasley taught me how to knit. Fleur Delacour, now Weasley, whom I met when I was fourteen, taught me, or tried to teach me, embroidery. I don’t have much patience, to be honest, though over a long period of time, with many breaks, I can create small pieces. I’ve honed my cooking and baking skills, as well as some of my survival skills. Sam, I would like you to help refresh my memory on knots and plants, if you can. And while these next skills are not quite useful to travel, they actually do have a place in battle. I’ve honed my pranks and potions, so it’s very easy to cause confusing mayhem during a battle. Explosions and flashes meant to deafen and blind temporarily, and even some sweets that will transform the eater, or make them uncontrollably vomit or other things like that. These items were actually created by some friends of mine, but I’ve fully incorporated them into my fighting. Draco and Neville saw fit to teach me the rapier, and from there I taught myself various swords, but I much prefer daggers and knives. War changed something in me..." She trailed off, staring into the distance, lost in thought, before shaking herself. "Enough of that. Does that answer your questions, big brother?"

"Well of course, little sister. I would love to see you work, but I fear you are going to teach us to fight. Did you continue with, oh, what did you call them? Martial Arts?" Here, Sam, Merry, and Pippin leaned forward eagerly, clearly remembering her visits where she taught them what she learned, and she caught on to Frodo's plan to help the others accept her as one who wouldn't be a burden.

"Of course I did. Had to if I wanted to become a Warlock. Had to keep current, as well, to keep my status as a Warlock, too. That’s a minimum of ten years’ worth of weapon free combat, not including what I learned as a child. Guys, I’m going to warn you right now. If you want to wake me up, take a long stick, like a walking stick meant for someone my height, and stand far back before poking my ankle. Just last week I almost killed one of my friends when she woke me with a shriek of surprise. So don’t take the chance." They nodded seriously, and she sighed.

"Well, that was depressing. Why don’t we finish eating, then work on knots and plants for the rest of the day? Easy work, but still useful."

**

Like Gimli said, they had two months before they were to leave, and Azalea planned to use every possible minute getting the Hobbits prepared. Her own pack was rearranged, with three changes of clothes at the bottom, a spare set of armour on top of that, her mess kit, laundry kit, and soaps carefully stored, and a hair care kit, with many extra ties and a sturdy metal brush and comb set, added in. She had grabbed extra blankets from her linens, undid her bedroll, and added to it, aiming for comfort since she had no need of actual warmth, and quickly stitched the blankets into the leather. She kept a weather-proofed wool blanket in her pack, as well as an oiled rain leather, and, after a moment’s deliberation, set her spare carving tools in her pack, as well as her yarn spindle, holding a yarn needle, a pair of knitting needles, a pair of folding scissors, and two cork stoppers to go on the end of the needles, keeping the stitches from sliding off. There was no yarn currently on the spindle, as she didn’t have a project in mind, but she was certain she would eventually have one; she was not content to stay idle.

Her tent was firmly secured to the bottom of her pack, and the whole thing was put in the Miscellaneous compartment of her trunk, which was then set at the foot of the bed in the room she had been given.

Azalea spent her days with the Fellowship, particularly the Hobbits, trying to find fighting styles that worked for them. So far, they only had the basics down. She figured they would find their style in their first battle; some people were like that. Boromir was still against her involvement, especially once she made it clear she would not wear sleeves and skirts, nor would she spar with any of them just yet. Gandalf simply amused himself with the arguments, often getting them started. Azalea let it happen because, as much as she did what she could to avoid fights in her old world, she still enjoyed them, both verbal and physical.

Hallow’s Eve and Day passed, with Azalea hiding in her Living Space, avoiding any celebrations by getting a head start on various projects, like sending Hedwig to find out if Sirius, Remus, and Severus lived. She had sent a hand carved azalea flower from a block of holly wood with her, just in case they were, so that they knew she was here.

It was while she was in the Living Space that she found a couple of packages in the mailboxes Fred and George had managed to produce before she left, containing letters from Minerva, Filius, Pomona, Poppy, Cedric, and Viktor, all berating her for not telling them personally and giving them the chance to decide. As it was, all of them stated that she was not alone, and they would see her in a few months.

Minerva had included a copy of the Daily Prophet, dated three days after she left that declared her a Martyr, while in the same breath made living even worse. Filius had included a book of survivalist charms, while Pomona gave her a helpful pamphlet containing tips on identifying poisonous plants and venomous creatures, and she set the book and pamphlet aside, planning on memorizing the first and taking the second to the Fellowship to see if the tips held true to this world.

Poppy, being ever so practical like her coworkers, had sent a full emergency Medical Kit, with clear instructions that she fully expected her to not need this before she arrived. She laughed, and put it in her pack after making sure she knew how to administer and use everything in the kit. While she didn’t plan on getting injured, it didn’t hurt to have a complete kit like this.

Viktor had sent her a new broom, a Thunderbird, said to exceed even the Firebolt (that particular broom had stayed top of the line in the last seventeen years) with a note saying it did indeed top the Firebolt, and a promise of a race, and seeker’s match, seeing as Cedric and Draco also had new Thunderbirds.

Cedric, bless his creative-loving soul, had included hundreds of yards of steel lined wool yarn, all dyed a camouflaged green-brown-grey. She had enough for several cowl and sleeve sets and she quickly set up several spindles.

When she had discovered Cedric’s secret passion for making threads and yarns, she had set up a trade system - he made his thread and yarn, and she would make him things using his craft. Then it had turned into paying him for them to stock her collection. It helped that he had made a name for himself as a supplier. This though, this came with a note stating that this was an early Yuletide gift. He had remembered her rants about exactly how much yarn it took to make cowls, and how many lives her chain cowls had saved, and he had made and sent enough for upwards of fifty sets of cowls and sleeves. This project, according to him, was ten years in the making, so she had best put it to good use. With a laugh, she summoned enough spindles to hold the yarn, and wrapped them, before charming some yarn and a pair of needles to start knitting. As much as she preferred to knit by hand, she had other things planned as well.

She had been serious about getting journals for everyone, and had already thought of quotes to go on the covers, but she wanted to personalize the pages with a watercolour, tailored to each person, as well. Duplicating charms would make this easier, meaning she would only have to paint one parchment. She set her notes, detailing who had which quote and how the pages would be decorated, off to the side and started painting.

> \- **Frodo** : _books; Courage is not having the strength to go on; it’s going on when you don’t have the strength._  
>  \- **Sam** : _plants; It takes a great deal of courage to stand up to your enemies; it takes a great deal more to stand up to your friends._  
>  \- **Merry** : _Sherlock Holmes; Keep your eyes on the stars, and your feet on the ground._  
>  \- **Pippin** : _mushrooms; I believe, if I refuse to grow old, I can stay young ‘til I die._  
>  \- **Gimli** : _precious gems; Failure will never overtake me if my determination to succeed is strong enough._  
>  \- **Legolas** : _Mallorn Trees; With the new day comes new strength and new thoughts._  
>  \- **Boromir** : _fire; Hope can be found, even in the darkest of places, if only one remembers to turn on the light._  
>  \- **Aragorn** : _forest; Either I will find a way, or I will make one.  
>  _ \- **Gandalf** : _fireworks; A wizard is never late. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.  
>  _ \- **Azalea** : _Deathly Hallows; All is well._

The two days passed quickly, and Azalea only pulled herself from her projects, having started trying to figure out how to imbibe a weapon with enough magic to return safely to the owner, when Hedwig returned in a flurry of snow, clutching a letter in her beak.

"You found them!" She was extremely relieved to know that her uncles were alive. She had been worried that they had died in the intervening years, and hadn't wanted to tell her aunt that her husband was truly dead.

 _< Indeed, chicklet. They almost did not believe it was you. Severus was upset, and is demanding answers, but I would suggest just using my essence to send the response. Things are not well in Rohan, Home of the Horse-Lords.>_ Azalea nodded even as she opened the letter, absently summoning some treats for her friend. _< And as I circled overhead, I noticed the big ones were very frantic. The little ones were ignoring them.>_ Her head popped up and she looked at the clock, before cursing. She had meant to show up for meals these last two days, and she hadn’t! She hadn’t even noted more than a few hours passing!

Racing out of the Living Space, barely remembering to grab a self-inking pen and some parchment, Azalea burst out of her trunk, and would have raced from the room if she hadn’t run head first into Aragorn and Boromir, all three of them going down in a tangle of limbs.

"I’m so sorry about that! I lost myself in my crafting. Are you two alright? What’s wrong?" For the two of them were staring at her as if she had grown two heads, and she repressed the urge to check and see if Remus and Sirius had pranked the letter clutched in her hand.

"How did you fit in that trunk? We couldn’t get it to open!" Ah. They must have been checking her room for clues.

"Oh, that. Well, first, you wouldn’t have been able to open any of the eleven compartments because you don’t have the right passwords. Second, that is a Wizard’s Trunk. It has spells that can make it larger on the inside. I can literally live in that trunk - I have fresh air and running water, as well as food. The only downside is that I would have to leave on occasion for more food, as well as socialization." She stood, having finally disentangled herself from the pile of limbs, and grabbed her parchments and pen, a quick spell fixing and damage done in the fall. "Also, I need to take some measurements of your arms and fists, if that’s alright. They’re for my Yuletide gifts."

"So, I guess there goes any chance of finding out what you were crafting?" Aragorn had quickly left behind the suspicion in regards to her, and instead seemed to treat her much like he did the Hobbits - like someone worth protecting and listening to. It warmed her and irked her at the same time. She was accustomed to protecting herself, so to see someone try to do so for her brought forth the mixed feelings.

"I can tell you some. Like I spent some time designing new weapons." And she had finished that before trying to figure out the necessary runic work. She felt the Hobbits were more suited towards thrown weapons than anything else, and of course, that meant she would have to find a way to get the weapons to return safely. "Though I’m nowhere near mastery level when it comes to crafting weapons. That’s my cousin’s area of expertise. I’m better with things like pots and pans, combs and brushes, and armour. Things meant to be sturdy, but not sharpened. I even dabble in jewelry making, but I hate making the wire for such fine work." As she spoke, she took the necessary measurements and noted them down. "Let’s go find the others. And maybe some food. I completely lost track of time down there."

"We’re supposed to meet in the Dining Hall soon anyway. Serves you right, for getting everyone so worked up." Boromir sneered at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"I warned the Hobbits that I may not be seen that much during Hallow’s Eve and Day. I even told them I would likely just get my meals straight from the kitchen. I told them to knock a certain pattern on the trunk if they needed me. I assume no one talked to them before getting worried?" The sudden quiet from her walking companions said it all. "Of course not. Come on, then."

**

After that, Azalea set alarms whenever she went to work on her gifts, and taught everyone the pattern that would summon her, though she refused to give the password. She had finally finished the journals, and the knitwear was moving along nicely. She had turned to making wrist bands, to go under the sleeves, charming them to monitor the health of the wearer and alert her to any situation. It had been a month since the Fellowship formed, and she was growing fond of them, despite the continuing arguments. Chances were, the various arguments would continue until their first battle, before lessening in severity afterwards.

The Hobbits were finally getting accustomed to fewer, and shorter, meals, as well as the exercise. Their fighting skills could still use some honing, but they were developing a style of staying low and playing dirty, skills she found hilarious. She still laughed when remembering the time they thought she wasn’t there, and Boromir had been trying to tell them they were fighting like little girls.

> _"You fight like untrained women. Grow a pair, and fight properly!" Azalea almost intervened, pleased that he was finally recognizing the fact that she was trained, when the look on Frodo’s face stopped her, and she knew she would be hearing some comedic gold, and probably a line she had told him herself._
> 
> _"Why do people say "grow a pair" or "grow some balls"? Balls are weak and sensitive. If you want to be tough, lose a pair. If you want to be the toughest, grow a vagina. Those can take a pounding." Everyone on the training grounds had stopped, and Arwen, who she had been discussing the differences between a Woman and an Ellyth, put a clenched fist over her mouth, actively biting her knuckle as she kept from laughing. Gimli was nodding sagely, while Legolas, Boromir, and Aragorn all blanched. She decided to make herself known, pulling Arwen with her._
> 
> _"He’s right on all counts there, Boromir. Vaginas are made to take a pounding," she accentuated her words with a lewd hip thrust, enjoying the red of embarrassment spreading across his face, "while balls can barely take one hit before you break them. Besides, sometimes, it takes balls to be a woman... and let me tell you, just because they aren’t physical, doesn’t mean my balls aren’t bigger than yours." Dear, sweet Arwen just made things better when she turned to Boromir, amusement clear._
> 
> _"I’m of the opinion that females do have balls. They’re just a little higher up, you know?" Legolas didn’t seem to know if he wanted to laugh or cover his face in embarrassment. The Hobbits and Gimli just laughed, deciding humor was the way to go, and Aragorn shook his head with a resigned smile. Boromir hadn’t known how to respond to that. Legolas just stared at Arwen in surprise as the words caught up to him._

Azalea wiped away the tears brought by the laughter, and stood. She had finally finished the weapons and required magic, and she had a stack of cowls, just waiting for extra enchantments. The wrist bands were done, and she just needed to run maintenance on her main armour, held within metal discs that she slid within her clothes each morning, triggered by a burst of controlled magic.

Gimli had been teaching her how to wield a battle axe, since she already knew her other blades, and she had actually been enjoying those lessons. Gimli’s teaching had actually caused damage to her armour, much to her amusement, despite the magical properties of the material and the protective enchantments layered onto it.

> _"If you weren’t so tall and slender, I’d wonder if you were a dwarf! You handle the style almost as well as our top dwarven fighters!"_
> 
> _"I don’t let myself conform to a single fighting style, Gimli. It’s how I keep from becoming complacent and predictable. A predictable opponent is a defeated opponent. Change things up."_

Legolas, on the other hand, had been teaching her the bow, claiming she was too tall and graceful to fight like a short and graceless dwarf. Despite the claim, however, he was quietly impressed with out well she matched Gimli’s fighting style... and how well she handled the bow.

> _"You have excellent aim. Are you certain you have never held a bow before? If your ears weren’t rounded, I would have thought you an Ellyth."_
> 
> _"I have never even thought about trying archery. However, I have always had excellent aim; the only times I’ve missed my opponent is when outside forces interfere. Or it’s part of my strategy. I’ll hide spells. I’ll shoot weak spells about, let them dodge and underestimate, then, when they think they’ve got the pattern down, I’ll change it up and nail them with a powerful curse. But on top of that, I can track a moving target and hit them accurately. That’s when outside interference comes into play."_

A few of the other elves, particularly Glorfindel and Erestor, when they returned from scouting, had taken to sparring with her. Glorfindel took such great delight in trying to rub her face in the dirt, quite literally, that their spars quickly became running battles through the grounds, and once Lord Elrond grew tired of having to stop them before they destroyed a garden, they took to the woods. Aragorn took her aside one night and asked how she had been able to keep up with him. She just grinned, much to his frustration.

All in all, she was having a good deal of fun, happier than she had been in a long time. The stress of the public was gone, and she was able to be herself, and it was exhilarating. It was like she had never stopped visiting.

The last of the Harvest came in, and Yule was right around the corner. Suddenly, she noted a scramble to get last minute gifts together, and even she fell into that trap, realizing that she should see about getting something for several others - Erestor, who also ran the library, and had been kind enough to teach her Sindarin; Lindir, who had not given up trying to teach her their music (she didn’t have the heart to tell him that she wasn’t really the choral music type - give her a war chant, bar tune, or sea shanty, and she could sing it, but choral music went right over her head); Glorfindel, who insisted on learning her spontaneous style; Arwen, who was quickly becoming a close friend as they spent time bemoaning their lot in life when it came to dealing with males; and Elrond, who had heard her tales and insisted on teaching her basic healing.

She sighed as she pulled the last stitch through on the blanket she had crocheted for Bilbo, using her thickest yarn and largest hook, and studied the list of people once more. She might as well give Elrohir and Elladan the daggers she had made for testing when she was figuring the required magic for the weapons. They were good, and the magic was working well, but they were built for larger hands than the Hobbits. Arwen got plenty of nice things, so she could refigure some of her spare armour, maybe make it more of a localized defense. While Arwen said she could fight, she likely wasn’t going to be able to fight, since Elrond was quite scared for his children, not that she blamed him. Elrond, she decided, was not ever going to meet Poppy if she could help it, but she made him several potions, and gave him instructions on how to brew and administer them.

Glorfindel was difficult. He was a warrior, and a well-known one, held in (secret) awe by even the dwarves, but he was very much a fun person. He reminded her of the Weasley Twins, or how she imagined the Marauders had been in their youth. Perhaps a box of products and a note telling him to incorporate them into his fighting? Sure, it’d be like setting a demon loose in Rivendell, but he wanted to learn her style.

She decided to gift Lindir with songs that she taken the time to write down from her world. They were lewd, at best, and downright dirty at worst, in some cases, but she also included their cleaner versions, and even some choral tunes that she liked to listen to. If nothing else, he would gain an insight on her musical ability. Besides, she had had the pleasure of getting the elf drunk one night – who knew that the Potter’s secret Dragon-Fire Whiskey was stronger than any drink an elf could handle? And honestly, a drunk Lindir was a rowdy and lewd Lindir. She would not let him live that down.

Erestor would get a book. But she spelled it with unending pages and an auto-sort feature. It was a book that was meant to become a catalogue for Rivendell’s library, and she figured Erestor would appreciate it, seeing as he had often bemoaned about trying to remember which book went where, no matter how long he lived.

"Ye alright there, lass?" She looked up to see Gimli standing in the doorway.

"Yeah, just planning the last of my gifts. And I need to figure out wrapping them. This is Uncle Bilbo’s gift; he’s been clutching his blankets closer to him lately. Did you need something?"

"Aye. I was wondering, since ye work with metal, well, I mean, do ye... do ye have a forge? I need to work on some gifts, but I don’ know how long it will take me, an’ I don’ like getting interrupted, an’ the elven forge has hours, an’..." She stood and approached him, cutting off his uncharacteristic rambling.

"Of course. Though the forge is small, you can have free access to my workshop, as long as I’m also there, and that’s only because the tools may be different and I need to do maintenance work myself. While I’m planning my gifts, they won’t be difficult to finish, since most are already complete. Anyway, I promise I won’t peek, okay?" Gimli nodded, and she smiled. "Hold on a moment, since I need to get Merry. He needs to finish his gifts, he works with wood, you see, and he’s been using my wood workshop to do so."

"No need, Aza. Finally managed to escape Pippin. As it is, he’s been trying to find a glassblower to help him out, since he hasn’t quite gained enough trust to work on his own."

"That is one craft I adore, but do not have the temperament for. Come on you two. _Home_." She lifted the lid of her trunk after speaking the password for the Living Space, before fairly sliding down the ladder into the small, five by five room. "Come on, you two!" Stepping out into the hallway, she smiled. She really had made this place into a cozy space, and she was quite proud. She raced down the hall, heedless of the mutterings of her ancestors who saw, and skidded to a stop outside her second workshop. Merry and Gimli huffed behind her.

"This is new. Normally, you say _Elvendom_ , and take me directly to the workshop."

"Well, that’s the password to access the workshop from outside the trunk, and don’t you go about using it willy-nilly! Today, I used the password to the Living Space. As you can probably see, each door is marked with what is within the room - I did that because I kept forgetting where everything was, oddly enough. The only exception is the Kitchen and Family Room, along this wall back towards the way we came, and that’s because they have half walls. I like those areas to feel a little more open. Merry, holler if you need help with anything, I’ll be one door this way," she pointed behind her, "in the Metal Workshop with Gimli. Stand inside the door and wait for one or both of us to stop, though. Where, in most cases, it doesn’t matter where you stop in your work with wood, the same does not hold true with metal."

"Got it. And I won’t wander. Promise." She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you Merry. Go on now." Merry disappeared into the workshop, and she tapped the doorframe. It glowed a bright yellow, and she settled down as she heard the sounds of the workshop in the back of her head.

"What was that?" Gimli looked between the doorframe and her suspiciously, and she smiled.

"A modified Monitoring Charm. I can hear the workshop in the back of my head. While I trust him not to do anything stupid, you can’t control everything. If something happens, and he can’t come get us, I’ll know. But he’s been down pretty much every night for the last month. He knows the workshop really well. Here’s the Metal Workshop. Like I’ve said before, I don’t really do any weapons down here, I don’t even have the means to sharpen weapons beyond a whetstone, but I should have everything else." She sat down at a bench and set down her armour discs, allowing the armor to unfold so that she could inspect it. "Let me know if you need help with a tool."

Azalea lost track of time, carefully inspecting each part of her armour, re-etching the protection runes, re-powering the magic, and re-doing the release mechanisms until she was certain they would not stick, before carefully putting them all back together. She now had five sets of the discs. A tad much, but always good to have backup. Besides, chances were, if she knew a battle was approaching, and she could prepare, she would be wearing proper armour. The discs carefully etched with their locations - left wrist, right wrist, left hip, right hip, and chest - before she placed four of the sets in a bag and slid the last set into their proper locations: her bracers, a small hidden pocket on each hip, and under a medallion that was sewn into each of her vests. The medallion was one of her own designs, given to each person who survived the war, and buried with each person who did not.

"Azalea? I’m done, Merry is too. Thank you for allowing me to use your workshop."

"No problem, Gimli. I’m not selfish. Well, not terribly selfish. It’s late enough that I am going to chase you out of her so that I can wash up and get some sleep. Was that done for the night or completely done?"

"As completely done as this workshop will allow me to be. I need to make use of a larger forge to get the rest of it done, this one is just too small, but don’t worry."

"Alright then. Come on, let’s get a move on."


End file.
